


A Collection of IT Related Vent Writing

by trashmouth_dragon



Category: IT (1990), IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Depression, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Multi, References to Depression, Self-Harm, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:47:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24386119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashmouth_dragon/pseuds/trashmouth_dragon
Summary: Basically, I'm sad and use writing to cope.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	1. An Explanation.

Imagine what you will.  
Take what you want from this. 

It's mostly Richie and Eddie being depressed because I project onto my favorite characters.


	2. The House Was Quiet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> General sorrow.

The house was quiet. Not silent. Birds could be heard chirping through the window. The bathroom faucet was drip, drip, dripping. Shifting and melting ice was scratching along the roof. The house itself spoke as it settled with the growing warmth of the early spring air. 

On days like this, many of us would go outside, go on walks or maybe go to the park. If it was warm enough, some might even hop on their bikes and take off down the street, cards playing traffic in the spokes of the wheels. 

Not today. Richie sat alone on the old, red, stained couch. The television was dark, having been turned off the night before and never turned back on. No lights were lit, the room instead being brightened by beams of sun coming from the window above the stairway. 

When home alone, Richie usually cranked up the radio, playing 80s hits on full blast and dancing along. Or, sometimes, a horror movie (or a movie from his childhood) would suffice. He would eat the cookies stashed away from sight in the kitchen, and drink the Pepsi his parents hid for themselves. He would practice his imitations, which were still horrible. 

Not today. Something in the air was off, he felt. No music or dancing felt right. He'd watched all of the movies in the house too recently to watch and enjoy them again. His imitations needed work, but none of them were of interest as he stared himself down in the bathroom mirror. 

The air was off. The sky was bright, cloudless. It was warm out and the snow was melting away. Birds were coming home from their Winter retreats. But the air was off. It felt wrong, dead. It felt like the world was grieving, and so, Richie grieved with it.

Perhaps he was just sad today. Either way, it was quiet. His world was quiet. His mouth was quiet. Even his racing thoughts were quelled by the sorrow in the air. 

And so he sat. In the lonely house, he sat. On the old, red, stained couch. And he was alone.


	3. A Small Step In Getting Better.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been two years. (In which Richie isn't getting better.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for sxxcide attempt. I wrote this while in a very low spot so I apologize. Also warning for smoking and drinking. 
> 
> Also, as you can see, I managed to sneak in an AVP thing even in the midst of all this darkness. Leave it to me to have small shout outs to folks who will probably never read these stories.
> 
> Also, the story switches from the current time (2 years after chapter 2) and events from Ch.2 but I didn't really make it clear.

Metallic squeaking echoed in the quiet streets. It was dark, dimly lit by the broken street light. The scene was beautiful and sad, the wind quietly whispering its secrets to its lover, the rusted windmill that stood stoic in Richie's front yard. 

The 42 year old man stood outside, bearing Alien V Predator boxers and a ragged old yellow t-shirt that read “Richie Tozier Comedy Hour” in hard to read print. He had removed his button up and it had been settled over the railing, the blue checkered cloth soaked through with the day's earlier rain. 

A cigarette hung limply from his lips. It was a poor habit he had picked back up after what had happened almost 2 years prior. Richie shivered and turned away from his yard as it played back in his mind. 

Eddie hung above him for a moment. Richie eyed his bloodied mouth in silent shock for a moment. 

“Richie.” Eddie's voice wavered. His hand grasped hopelessly at his chest. 

And then he was flung aside, as if nothing but a nuisance, a pest, a bug. 

Richie rested his head on his door frame and considered calling Beverly or Bill. It had been his go-to to pick up his phone and dial in Bev’s number. Recently, however, he'd been calling her less and less. It'll be easier this way. 

The squeaking started again, louder this time. Richie gritted his teeth and turned back around. He took a drag off of his cigarette and then flicked the remainder into his yard. It burned bright for a moment before dying in the moist grass. 

His glasses slipped from his hands, sliding into the dirty water. The crowd of friends around Richie suddenly felt suffocating, so he did his best to disperse them with a joke.  
After the small laughter died down, Richie told them he'd lost his glasses. Everyone separated and began looking, Bill being the final to go under the water. 

For a moment, Richie was alone. It was then he let himself fully accept it. He knew it was real; he was aware his love had died and been left to rot under 29 Neibolt. 

He sobbed into his hands. After a moment, he heard the water break and a soft hand, that of Beverly, rested on his arm. 

Richie felt his throat crack and he let out a groan. His head fell, his glasses being pushed up and off, clattering to the pavement. 

Everyone else has moved on. Everyone else has healed. Ben and Beverly are getting married in just a few months. Bill is publishing a new book. Mike has a new job and lives in fucking Florida. What have I done? Nothing. I've done nothing but sit on my ass and fuck up over and over. No wonder Steve finally stopped calling. 

He sighed and ran his hand across his head and to his neck. He stepped down his stairs and picked up his glasses. One lens was cracked. 

Richie sat down. The dark sky was drizzling again. Shakily, Richie pulled his pack of Camels out of his pocket. With his other hand, he pulled out his lighter. He lit up another cigarette. 

The sky cried. Richie felt himself falling apart. He took a long drag and coughed loudly. The rain killed the cherry. “Fuck.” 

He attempted to relight the camel but gave up and angrily chucked it into the sky, only for it to come back down a few steps away, landing broken on the sidewalk. 

“Fuck this. Fuck it! I'll just smoke inside!” Richie shoved his hands in his pockets and ran up the stairs and into his house. He left his blue checkered button-up sitting on the railing. 

Inside, the large television was off, a small fan waved an unsteady wind back and forth, and a lamp lit up the living room. A hallway led to the kitchen, the bedroom and the bathroom. 

Richie stormed his way into the kitchen. Throwing open his rickety refrigerator, he decided on Bud Light and grabbed for the 6-pack. He made his way to the living room and proceeded to throw himself half-heartedly onto the loveseat. He cracked open a beer and took a swig. 

His gut growled. When was the last time I ate? Richie stared into space as his mind lagged like an old computer. That microwave burrito. Jesus fucking Christ. That was yesterday morning. 

Richie wondered for a moment just how long he could go before starving to death. He caught himself. No. Don't think about that, Richard. Think about good things, like how you're best friends are getting married, and how Bill finally wrote a gay character he didn't kill off. Sunshine, rainbows. 

“I should eat something.” Richie announced it to his empty house. This held some semblance of finality in his mind, as he stood robotically and made his way to the kitchen. 

His fridge was mostly empty, barring eggs, milk and a half empty gallon of expired orange juice. He dumped the orange juice down the drain and tossed the carton before pulling out the eggs. There were only three, and his stomach growled at the sight. 

A bowl, a whisk, and a little bit of milk later, Richie decided to pan fry his scrambled eggs instead of microwave them. He pulled a pan from his cupboards and turned to face the stove. He turned the dial and the stove top glowed cherry red. 

“Jesus H. Christ. It's 3 am.” He read the clock before carefully pouring his eggs in. 

Only a few minutes later, Richie sat down and enjoyed his small meal. He scarfed his eggs down quickly. He eyed the beer for only a moment before his thoughts were interrupted.

The loud ringing of his cell phone. Richie looked down at his phone, the caller ID reading “Big Bill”, and sighed loudly. It crossed his mind, the frantic text he had sent him earlier that night, right before finding himself smoking outside. 

Im struggling so bad right now man i dont know if I can keep this up its not your fault whst im doing and im sorry it came to this. Love you billiam

Richie answered. “Hmm.” 

“Rich, man! Oh thank God. I can be there in less than 5 hours, I booked the next flight to Beverly Hills.” 

“Don't worry about me, Bill.” 

“Don't worry? You basically said you're going to fucking kill yourself, Richie! I don't care what you say, I'm coming. Even if you're okay, it'll be nice to visit. I'm really worried about-” 

Richie clicked the End Call button and set his phone face down on his coffee table. Can't change my mind, Billy Boy. I know what I'm doing. 

His body moved almost automatically across his living room. It's just what's best for everyone. His cracked glasses skewed his hallway as he came closer to his bedroom. Fuck happy thoughts. 

Richie grabbed the door handle and fell into the room. Everything's gone wrong. First Stan. Then I lost Eddie. I lost my job. I can barely afford my house with what's left of my money. I can't feed myself. Everyone lives so far away. What's one last fuck up? 

My nightstand. There're pills on my nightstand. 

Richie fumbled for the bottle. He scanned over the label. Trazadone HCL. 100 mg. Richie messed with the cap for a moment before growling in frustration and smacking it against the edge of his nightstand. The lid popped off and pills went flying everywhere, pinking! down around him like confetti. 

He grabbed one from the nightstand and swallowed it dry. After a momentary hesitation, he followed it up with a second, and then a third. 

Fuck. Fuck. What the fuck am I doing? Richie dropped the bottle. 

Without much thought, he shoved his door open, leaving the mess, and ran for his phone. He opened his messaging app and typed a small message to Bill. 

Im sorry. I'm not thinking straight. I fucked up 

Bill sent a reply within moments. 

Ill be there asap. Go to the ER if you have to or im calling a welfare check

Richie hesitated before typing a reply. 

I dont think im in danger. Thanks. 

He set his phone face down once again. He ignored it as it buzzed again, and sluggishly walked down the hallway. He left his door hanging open and ignored the mess of pills scattered about the floor and the nightstand. 

I don't know if anything will get better, Bill. 

He pushed the blanket back and crawled under the covers. 

Maybe they will. Maybe I can make things better. 

A wave of exhaustion swept over him. 

If this doesn't get better, then I can do it. I'll give it another year. 

A small smile crept into his features and he drifted off to sleep. 

\---

A small beam of light lit up Richie's face, causing him to wince and roll into his pillows. 

“R-richie?” 

The 42 year old rolled back to face him. “Shut the door or turn off the light, my head is pounding.” 

“You scared me, man. Don't ever f-f-fucking do that again.” 

Richie rolled back over. He didn't know what to say. I'm sorry. I'm a fuck up. Lock me up. Put me on pills. Just fucking fix me. 

He didn't say anything. 

“I'm really happy to see you, man.” 

Richie rolled over again, now facing Bill. 

“I… I'm happy to see you too.”


	4. Asthma Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie uses his inhaler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for homophobia (mostly internalized), church, and sxxcidal thoughts, ideation and action. Also this is set when they're children rather than adults. Sorry.

Edward Kaspbrak is gay. A homosexual. He isn't attracted to girls. He doesn't want to date one. Or hold hands. Or kiss. Or- Edward Kaspbrak is gay. 

Today is a warm day, early September. Today, Edward Kaspbrak leaves his house and joins his two closest friends, Bill and Richie, at the park. His chest booms as he catches Richie's smiling eyes. He realizes he likes Richie romantically. Today is a warm day, early September. 

Edward Kaspbrak goes to church every Sunday. This is morally wrong, he tells himself. But his heart says otherwise. He thinks about how his mother would hate him. He's supposed to be a good, Christian boy. Edward Kaspbrak goes to church every Sunday. 

Eddie grabs for his inhaler. The park is full of blooming flowers. He walked at least 10 blocks to get here. He left his bike at home. Richie is smiling at him. He's making a rude joke about his mom. Eddie can't breath. Eddie grabs for his inhaler.

Eddie is panicking. Bill speaks first. His voice doesn't register, coming as if ocean waves. They smash ashore. Richie speaks. He grabs Eddie's shaking hand and gently guides it to his mouth. Richie's hand doesn't move. Eddie is panicking. 

Eddie uses his inhaler. 

\---

Eddie Kaspbrak is gay. No one knows. He isn't going to tell anyone. Ever. He wonders if anyone has noticed or caught on. He knows he's obvious. He's trying to not be. He fears it isn't working. Eddie Kaspbrak is gay. 

Disease is Eddie's biggest fear. Bill is the only one available today. Eddie gets on his bike and meets Bill in the Barrens. They talk for upwards of 3 hours. Bill slips up. He makes a comment on AIDS. Disease is Eddie's biggest fear. 

Eddie's chest tightens. He wonders if Bill is going to ask if he's queer. If he'll call him a girly-boy, or a fairy. Bill sees his panic. Eddie can see that Bill is going to speak. Oh God, he's going to say it. Eddie's chest tightens. 

Bill thinks his panic is over disease. He apologizes. Eddie still can't breathe. Bill panics too. He grabs for his inhaler. Eddie recoils. He feels dirty with sin. He knows the panic is over being gay. Bill thinks his panic is over disease. 

Eddie uses his inhaler. 

\--- 

Eddie is gay. He feels like a loser. He feels so much like a loser, even the Losers don't want him. Eddie avoids Richie and Bill for a week before Ben calls him. Ben is a nice kid. Maybe he won't make Eddie panic. Eddie is gay. 

Ben's house is quiet. They sit in the living room. Ben is quietly asking him questions. Why has he been avoiding everyone? Is everything okay? Is it his mom? Eddie asks for a topic change. Ben asks Eddie if he's ever felt different. Ben's house is quiet. 

Eddie's head is loud. He asks Ben what he means. Ben pushes. He asks if Eddie ever feels like he doesn't quite fit in with other boys. Eddie doesn't answer. Eddie's head is loud. 

Eddie panics. He says he doesn't want to think about that. Ben says he should stop avoiding his friends. He says Richie is worried. Eddie can't breathe. Eddie panics. 

Eddie uses his inhaler. 

\---

Edward Kaspbrak is gay. He's been avoiding Richie. This is to avoid his feelings. If he pretends they aren't there, then maybe they'll go away. Eddie doesn't want to be gay. Edward Kaspbrak is gay. 

Eddie goes to Richie's. It's a friday night. School is in session soon. Eddie knows this is one of the last days he'll have all the time in the world to hang. Richie invited him over. He takes it. Eddie goes to Richie's.

Richie's room is dark. Richie has a movie set up. They watch the movie. It's an old horror movie, Vertigo, Richie says. Eddie doesn't pay attention. He can feel the heat of Richie pressed into him. There's an entire bed. He doesn't have to sit this close. Eddie smiles and hopes Richie doesn't notice his blush. Richie's room is dark. 

Eddie is tired. He tells Richie. Richie pauses the movie and says they can get situated for sleep. He begins moving the blankets. Eddie tells him he can't share the bed. He'll take the floor. Richie says he doesn't understand. Eddie is tired.

He can't breathe. Eddie's eyes widen. All he can do is shake his head. Richie stays confused for only a moment. Then, he seems to understand. Eddie looks away in shame. He can't breathe.

Eddie uses his inhaler. 

\---

Eddie is gay. He's dwelling on this as he pulls up to the park. He hops off his bike and waves to Stan, Mike and Beverly. Mike waves back while Stan calls for him and Beverly continues trying to light her cigarette. Eddie smiles. Eddie is gay. 

How is everything going? Beverly poses the question as Eddie jogs up. Eddie pretends to think it over. He says everything is fine. But that's not true, is it Eddie? Eddie shakes the thought off. Better off de- Beverly smiles and tells him that's good. Eddie thinks over the question once more. How is everything going? 

Maybe death would be better. Eddie glances at Stan, who's excitedly telling Mike about the Brown Thrush he spotted at the birdbath. Mike catches Eddie's eyes. He stops Stan to tell Eddie that Richie will be there soon. He's running late. Eddie panics. Maybe death would be better. 

Eddie uses his inhaler. 

\---

Eddie Kaspbrak is gay. His mother doesn't know. Sonia Kaspbrak will never know. But she has her suspicions for a fleeting moment. It's Sunday. Eddie says he doesn't want to go to church. She doesn't understand. Eddie Kaspbrak is gay. 

The church is filled with older people. Everyone is white. Sonia would never bring her son to a church with black folk. And the younger the members, the more liberal the church. And so, Eddie stands in a pew with 5 old men. The church is filled with older people. 

Eddie is going to Hell. The pastor says that all gay people will burn forever. His breathing hitches and he glances at the old man next to him and then to his mother. I need to pee, mommy. His mom waves him off. Eddie is going to Hell. 

He's crying. Eddie is crying. He doesn't even make it out of the room before he's crying. Fuck. He glances back into the room, full of old white people, and sighs in relief. No one is looking at him. He rushes to the bathroom and looks at himself in the mirror. He's crying. 

Eddie uses his inhaler. 

\---

Eddie is gay. And he's alone. He's alone in two ways. He finds that secluding himself makes it easier. Easier to not face himself. And he finds himself alone in the Barrens. He knows that no one should be there today. Not until 4 pm. It's 3. He lets himself think. Eddie is gay. 

Stanley. Eddie didn't expect Stan Uris to show up. Stan didn't expect Eddie to be alone in the clubhouse. They catch eyes as Stan steps down, holding a bird book and wearing binoculars. Stan gives a small wave. Eddie smiles. Other than Bill and Richie, Stan is his best friend. Stanley. 

It's silent for a long time. Stan finally speaks. He tells Eddie that he caught Bill as he left for his speech therapy. Bill had said he's worried about Eddie. Stan says he's worried as well. You've always fought to be around, and suddenly you're avoiding us like we're sick. Eddie can feel his throat catching. It's silent for a long time. 

Eddie gets upset. No one has to worry. He tells this to Stan. Stan goes to reply. Please don't worry. He feels tears start falling down his cheeks. I'm sorry, Stan. Stan grabs the inhaler Eddie drops. He shakes it and hands it to Eddie. Eddie gets upset. 

Eddie uses his inhaler. 

\---

Eddie is gay. Mike calls him early in the day. Eddie leaves the house quietly. He meets Mike at the Aladdin and they decide on a horror movie. Mike comments, Richie would love this. Eddie's breath hitches. Eddie is gay. 

Mike is a good kid. Eddie agrees. He eyes Mike up and down, wondering if he knows. Mike just smiles back. He says they should go again, and invite Richie next time. Mike is a good kid. 

Eddie can't breathe. Eddie can feel the panic welling in his throat as he thinks of inviting Richie. Mike puts his hand on his shoulders and asks if he's okay. Eddie says he needs his inhaler. Eddie can't breathe. 

Eddie uses his inhaler. 

\---

Eddie is gay. He dwells on this as he approaches the underground clubhouse. Eddie is gay. 

Bev is here. The small stream of smoke coming from the open door tells this to Eddie. He decides to check anyway, his anxiety deciding it could possibly be that the wood is on fire. He crawls down the entrance and turns to face into the room. Bev is here. 

Beverly is worried. Eddie says he's going to leave. She asks him to sit down. He complies. Bev says that she's concerned. She says everyone can tell something is going on. Beverly is worried. 

Eddie tries to explain. He struggles with his words. How does one explain they're gay and depressed without outing themself? After a long hesitation, he begins crying. Beverly hugs him and promises to love him no matter what. Eddie tries to explain. 

Eddie uses his inhaler. 

\--- 

Eddie is gay. His self hatred grows daily. He sees how his mom reacts to homosexuality. He goes to church 3 times a week. He can't tell if his friends would still love him. He tries to change it, but he can't. Eddie is gay. 

Eddie is alone. It's night time. Sonia Kaspbrak is asleep in her chair downstairs. Eddie can hear her. It plays alongside his thoughts. Even with his mother in the house, Eddie feels completely alone. Eddie is alone. 

He can't do it. That's what he decides. Quietly, Eddie climbs out of his bed and goes to the bathroom. He opens the cabinet above the sink and scans over the bottles and bottles of various medications. He grabs one at random. I could just kill myself. Eddie shakes his head. I'm not as weak as my mom says I am. He can't do it. 

Eddie uses his inhaler.


	5. Correspondence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie talks to his therapist. 
> 
> Warning for discussion of death

"How do you feel?" 

The 40ish year old man leaned forward, his arms on his knees. He nervously shook one leg, eyeing the floor. 

"I don't know." 

His therapist sat back in his chair and pushed his glasses up. 

"That's understandable. What do you want to talk about then? You just performed for the first time since Eddie. What about that? Did it go well?" 

Richie shook his head and took his glasses off. He groaned.

"Dude, I bombed it. I got on stage and I choked. I don't know if I can ever get on stage again." 

His therapist watched him quietly for a moment.

"Why do you say that?" 

Richie's head snapped up. 

"Why? Why? Because I embarrassed the fuck out of myself!" 

"And? Why does that stop you from doing it again? You told me you want to stay a comedian. Unless you've changed your mind, you'll need to face it and get back out there." 

Richie looked confused, perhaps a touch angry, for a moment. 

"It stops me because I don't like how it makes me feel." 

He slid his glasses back on. 

"Well, Richie. How does it make you feel?" 

The comedian sat back in his chair. 

"I don't know. Like, like I'm trapped. Like some horrible monster is chasing me. Like I'm a kid again, being made fun of for being me. It throws me back. It's like, well, like- it's like this dirty, shitty brownish grey color. And it just kind of floods me whenever I step on stage."

Richie paused. "It's like I have asthma. I can't breathe. And I'm staring down a giant spider- hear me out here- and this giant spider is going to eat me. But it's not like I can do anything about it. I'm stuck down here, in this shitty grey water and I'm scared but someone is telling me I'm good enough and so I go down there and try to kill the spider but-" 

Richie started crying. 

His therapist fixed his glasses."I have a feeling this isn't about your job anymore. Can I ask, what does the spider represent?" 

The comedian shook his head and delivered a small laugh. "I don't know. Adulthood, maybe. I guess, I kind of blame myself. I know I sound like a broken record. It always comes back to blaming myself for Eddie's- for Eddie. But, it's like, we all had lives. We had all moved on and then Mike wanted that stupid reunion of "The Losers' Club"-" Richie said this with air quotes, "And of course, Eddie got hurt." 

A look crossed his face. Something painful, as though he was reliving it. 

"He died in my arms." 

His mouth hung open as though he had planned to continue speaking, but his words had caught in his throat. 

"Richie, you can't blame yourself for a drunken mistake. Eddie fell. You've told me the story. He fell while you and your friends, all drunk, played in the sewer like you did as children." 

Richie shook his head and wiped his eyes. "I convinced him to go down there. He didn't want to. But I convinced him he was brave enough. If I hadn't-" He choked on his words again. 

"If I hadn't convinced him that he was brave enough, he wouldn't have, he wouldn't have fallen onto the broken pipe. And he wouldn't have died in my arms and he wouldn't be stuck under that house. If he had even just been a little less hurt we could've gotten him out before it collapsed but I, I-" 

Richie and his therapist's eyes locked. 

"Well doc," Richie played his Bugs Bunny impersonation. "I think it's about time I got on home." 

His therapist sighed. "Well, I suppose it is. Same time next week. Unless something else works better. And remember to take your meds." 

He offered his hand. Richie took it, awkwardly, and shook it quickly. "I'll be here the same time next week. See ya."


End file.
